


The Aliens' Aliens

by truc



Series: What are friends for? [4]
Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alfred is the boss, Aliens are not the weird ones here, Bruce wants to be Batman all the time, Chaos, Clark tries to give advice to his son, Cookies, Damian is himself, Dick has bad eating habits, Family, Friendship, Garbage chore, Gen, Jason has no shame, Jon is confused, Tim is a tattle-tale, does it work?, the Batfamily is weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-20 12:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16137434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truc/pseuds/truc
Summary: Clark introduces his son to the Batfamily.***"Bruce had some sort of emergency. He'll be a bit late."Jon's father furrowed his eyebrows, "A Batman-related emergency?"The unnamed man smirked, "Civilian.""Oh," Jon's father exclaimed as he looked at a specific spot in the ceiling, "That's..." He flushed red."Not what you are thinking," Bruce Wayne suddenly appeared behind Jon. Both he and his father jumped although his father quickly recovered and pretended nothing had happened."Didn't I tell you not to use your abilities in my house?" Bruce Wayne glared at Jon's father. It was slightly destabilizing that the slightly smaller man than his father could chastise him like Jon's mother could.Jon's father quickly recovered, "If it is not what I am thinking, what is 'that'?"Bruce's glare simply deepened, "Jason is stealing clothes to go undercover."Jon's father glanced back at the ceiling, gaping, disbelief clearly written in his face, "That's Jason? Wait. He's stealing your clothes? That's yours?!?"





	The Aliens' Aliens

That morning, Jon was sat down at his parents' table and Clark was fidgeting in front of him in a way reminiscence of the Talk. Jon's father was tapping a finger against the table while he darted looks at the kitchen's door. Jon was only curious why his mother had shot an amused look his father's way and otherwise leaned back and "enjoyed the show". Normally, family talks were coordinated efforts between his parents, not this awkward mess.

"Jon, it is time for you to learn one of life's most important lesson," Jon's father solemnly said. His mother barely suppressed a laugh in a fake-sounding cough. Jon leaned on his elbows, waiting for this interesting information. Was it going to be a more informative talk than when his powers started going out of control? Or the time his parents told him his father was an alien and so was he?

"Today," Jon's father continued, "You'll meet the Batfamily."

Jon waited for more. But nothing came.

His mother chuckled, "Clark, you're making a big deal out of nothing. He already met Diana and nothing bad happened."

His father shook his head, "That's not the same at all. Diana is easy to get along with... The Batfamily, on the other hand, is almost always a psychedelic experience..."

She lifted an eyebrow at that, "They are not that bad."

With levity, Jon's father returned his attention to his son, "The first rule when interacting with the Batfamily is realizing they are aliens."

Jon was lost. He frowned, "I thought they were all humans."

His father nodded in approval, "They are. But meeting them means dealing with the biggest cultural shock you'll ever have to encounter. You might think you understand their language, however, when they talk, you won't be able to recognize what they are talking about. You might think your superpowers would give you an edge in abnormity but, they all know better than you what your limits are and they act weirder than anyone else. Don't ever brag or even say that you are good at something if you don't want to spend the afternoon competing. I learned that the hard way."

Jon blinked howlishly at his still serious-looking father, "That's the lesson?" This had to be a joke.

His father laid a hand on his shoulder, "Before we go, remember that if you don't understand anything they do or say, it's because they are the aliens, not because we are."

"Clark, I think that's enough. You'll scare him up for nothing," his mother amusedly commented.

His father's eyes found him and he seemed to be evaluating Jon's readiness, "Fine. We'll be gone for a bit. See you, Lois." He gave her the perfunctory kiss, they quickly changed and both flew in the Gotham's direction.

Close to a grandiose Manor, they changed back into their civilian identities.

"We're not going in the Cave?" Jon couldn't help asking. His father gave him a reassuring smile, "I think that would be too much for your first visit. Maybe next time."

They rang the door and a smiling young man answered, "Clark, it is nice seeing you. And you must be Jon."

"Yes," Jon politely agreed.

The man let them in, "Bruce had some sort of emergency. He'll be a bit late."

Jon's father furrowed his eyebrows, "A Batman-related emergency?"

The unnamed man smirked, "Civilian."

"Oh," Jon's father exclaimed as he looked at a specific spot in the ceiling, "That's..." He flushed red.

"Not what you are thinking," Bruce Wayne suddenly appeared behind Jon. Both he and his father jumped although his father quickly recovered and pretended nothing had happened.

"Didn't I tell you not to use your abilities in my house?" Bruce Wayne glared at Jon's father. It was slightly destabilizing that the slightly smaller man than his father could chastise him like Jon's mother could.

Jon's father quickly recovered, "If it is not what I am thinking, what is 'that'?"

Bruce's glare simply deepened, "Jason is stealing clothes to go undercover."

Jon's father glanced back at the ceiling, gaping, disbelief clearly written in his face, "That's Jason? Wait. He's stealing your clothes? That's yours?!?"

Before Bruce could presumably snap at Jon's father, the young man intervened, "People give Brucie all kind of gifts, especially gag gifts. At least, I hope they are gag gifts." Bruce glared at him.

The other held up his hands, "Hey, I'm not asking if you ever used them. I really don't want to know."

Jon's father seemed stuck on one particular piece of information, "That's yours? Is it even legal?"

The young man gave Jon's father a healthy slap, "You're funny, Supes, of course, it is. Well, not in public, but in bedrooms, it is."

"What sort of undercover work is he doing?"

Bruce snapped, "Not important. I called you for League business, not to discuss my son's work."

"Okay," Jon's father lamely replied, blinking uncertainly at his friend.

Bruce's gaze found Jon and he studied him with so much attention Jon found himself trying to resist squirming, "You brought your son with you. Why?"

Jon's father shrugged, "I thought it was time he met your gang." Bruce looked dubiously at Jon's father as if he was sure his friend was lying through his teeth.

"Don't worry, Bruce," the young adult cheerfully interfered, "I'll make sure he is taken care of." Bruce gave him an even more dubious look, "Alfred is not back yet."

Jon's father commented, "Dick is a responsible adult, Bruce, now let's go do what you called me for." Bruce frowned and nodded, moving out of the room with one last warning glance at 'Dick'.

Jon's father smiled reassuringly at his son, "You'll be fine. Don't worry. Dick is nice." He walked out of the room to catch up with Bruce.

Jon was left alone with the cheery Dick. Before the silence could become awkward, Dick offered his hand, "I'm Dick. Sorry for the late introduction." Jon shook his hand (that seemed normal enough) and answered, "That's fine. You're the oldest, right?"

Dick smiled, "I sure am. Do you want to eat something?"

Jon nodded, just to be polite, "Sure."

Dick's smile widened and he gestured him to follow him, "Jay just cooked one of my favourite sort of cookies. I'm sure you're going to enjoy them, even if your grandmother is such a great cook."

Jon was surprised Dick knew that much about his grandma's cooking, "Did you taste grandma's cooking?"

"I sure did," Dick said as they entered a superb eating area, all sparkling counters and nice looking wood furniture, "You can sit there. I'll bring the cookies."

There was another kid seated at the table, one closer to Jon's age. Jon gave him a smile, "Hey, I'm Jon."

The boy scowled at him, "I know who you are. You are the Alien's kid. Don't bother talking to me, I have better things to do." He turned back his attention to his plate.

After the rejection, Jon felt uncomfortable seating in a chair that was probably worth his father's yearly salary if his parents' information about Bruce's wealth was anywhere close to accurate. Fortunately, he hadn't long to wait until Dick came back with two plates heaped with cookies and placed one in front of him. Jon stared at the pile that almost fell over. How did Dick even carry these from the kitchen without spilling any?

"You're not hungry?" Dick's mumbled out of his full mouth. It sounded more like "UR Not 'Gry?"

Jon remembered it was impolite to stare as he looked at the horror display of the adult stuffing his mouth of cookies. Just how many cookies could he eat at the same time?

"Uh, why did you serve me that many cookies?"

Dick swallowed his mouthful (Jon found it mildly horrifying his throat would take all of that at once), "'Cause you're a growing boy and growing boys need cookies."

Jon took a cautious bite of his cookie and it tasted awesome.

"It's great, right? That's one of Alfred's specialty. He used it in the famous Culinary War."

"Culinary War?" Jon wondered aloud.

"Yeah, between Alfred and your Grandma?" At Jon's puzzled expression, Dick added, "You don't know your family history? I thought Clark would have taught you the basic information about your family history. We think we can link the underlining motives that lead to the war to May 23rd, 20xx when Clark first ate Alfred's food. He made one careless comment comparing it to his Ma's food. Nonetheless, the real fireworks started on September 2nd, 20xx when..."

Dick's intriguing history was interrupted by the appearance of a black-haired teenager, a bit older than Jon, yelling, "Code Red100!"

Dick let go of his current cookie, scrambled up with wild panic in his eyes, "He's here? That shouldn't be possible..." Jon rose from his chair, trying to see what was wrong. Were they under attack?

The new boy dumped a glass of water in front of Jon and ordered, "Sit and drink." The other boy at the end of the table glared at him, "That can't be, Drake. Pennyworth was supposed to take twice as much time."

Jon sat and sipped the tepid water. He blinked. It was water; how could it taste this bad?

Another man entered the room, this one was obviously Alfred Pennyworth if the clothes he was wearing were anything to go by. The man looked over the room, briefly resting on Jon's plate heaped with cookies.

"Master Jonathan, is the food to your liking?"

"Yes. It's very good," Jon reassured him very quickly.

"Was Master Richard the one who served you the food?" Richard? Ah, he meant Dick.

"Yes."

The butler's glare in Dick's direction was poised and deliberate, "Master Richard, I believe you are the one responsible for the garbage duty this week."

"But Alfie..." Dick's insistent glances at the older teen seemed to translate into a secret code until the teen named 'Drake' interfered, "Alfred, I have proof Damian insulted our guest and ignored him afterward."

The butler turned his eyes in the younger teen's direction, "Is that true, Master Damian?"

The boy callously responded, "I called him the Alien's kid. It's not an insult: it is the truth."

The butler rose one stoic eyebrow, "The tone makes all the difference, Master Damian. You are hereby the one responsible for the garbage." With that, he walked out.

Damian openly scowled at the other black-haired teen from the Wayne household, "You are a backstabbing and unworthy idiot, Drake."

"At least, I'm not the one stuck on garbage duty because I act like an asshole," Drake replied. 

Jon gulped his water as the tension in the air became palpably dangerous. He turned to Dick, simply to see him pilling cookies in his mouth with nonchalance. Jon had to do something to stop the imminent war, "Uh, why are you fighting over garbage chore? It doesn't take that long to do..." Jon would know, he was the one responsible for emptying the garbage. 

The one called Damian huffed in an offended way and returned to his reading. Drake gave a victorious grin before answering the question, "Residential garbage is not much of a chore. But, we are the Batfamily. Meaning, our garbage is much harder to get rid of. And Alfred always gives the task to the person who is the worst host in the Manor that week." 

Dick nodded in agreement while his plate was quickly emptying much to Jon's bewilderment (How much food could a person eat before their stomach exploded? How long would it take the ambulance to come here?). 

"What sort of garbage?" Jon forced himself to focus on the most rational conversation he had had since he had entered the home. 

Drake shrugged, "Batarangs melt easy enough but nuclear waste has to be carefully handled."

"Nuclear?!?"

Dick answered, "Yeah, that's bad enough without all the other specialized equipment we go through in a week. Alfie had to draw the line somewhere or he wouldn't have been able to attend to other things around the Manor." Jon noticed Dick's plate was squeaky clean. 

Jon wasn't sure which conversation he wanted less to have: the nuclear one or Dick's stomach one. Fortunately for him, he didn't need to make a choice as a black-haired young adult ran in the room while screaming, "Who's the motherfuc*** who put poison ivy in my underwear? I'm fuc**** going to murder them!"

Jon's bulging eyes noticed Damian, Drake and Dick had all remained seated. Dick snickered. Drake raised an eyebrow and Damian gave the new person a glare for disturbing him from his book. 

The black-haired and fury-fuelled man stomped to Dick's side and gripped his shirt, "So, it was you."

Dick innocently held his hands up, "Nope, I just find it hilarious. Especially with the kind of undercover you are doing."

Jon was sure the furious young adult would clobber Dick in front of him. What was the protocol to stop the Batfamily's internal wars? Would they whip out Kryptonite if he interfered? Would he be considered a bad guest if he called for help?

Fortunately for him, a new voice interfered, "Jason, what are you doing?" 

Bruce and Jon's father appeared in the doorway. 

"I'm killing the person who decided to rubbed poison ivy all over my boxers when I was trying out your ridiculous outfit and accessories," Jason responded with aplomb. 

Bruce sighed, "Are you sure it was Dick's doing?" 

Dick, still held in Jason's grasp, waved at Jon's father, "Hey, Big Blue, earlier today, while I was eating Jay's cookies, I remembered I had to tell you about this painting I once saw who looked like a mix of you, airplanes and birds. It was so creepy!" 

Jason glared at his father, "Pretty sure." 

Damian interjected, "Petty tricks like that are normally more Drake's doing than Grayson's."

Drake glared at him, "You're just out to get revenge on me outwitting you earlier today."

Damian's response fell flat when Alfred entered the room. He gave all of the Wayne boys and men a pointed glare, "I see you are all taking good care of our guests."

Jon blinked at the terrible Batfamily scolded into submission by an elderly gentleman, yes, even the terrifying Batman. What was going on here?

"Jon, I think we should head out, "Jon's father quietly told him. The confused boy politely waved goodbye at the household with his father and walked out of the house. 

When they had flown out of earshot, Jon's father took pity on him and asked, "Are you okay? You look traumatized. Maybe I should have waited a bit more to introduce you to them..."

Jon numbly looked at his father, "Are you sure they are not aliens?" 

Jon's father carefully looked around and quietly whispered, "I've looked into it. No alien species would find them normal."

"Anyway, what League business did you have to attend there?" Jon asked, shivering at the thought the persons he had seen had been apparently raised by humans. 

Jon's father smiled, "Only if you promise never to tell anyone about it."

Jon nodded, "Cross my heart."

"Someone rubbed poison ivy on all the Batman's suits in the cave," an amused father responded. 

Jon blinked, "How is that a League emergency?" 

Jon's father shook his head, "It's not exactly one. Bruce hates any League interference with his Batman business. His kids, on the other hand, are a whole other matter... The other members of the League have learned never ever to get involved in the Batfamily pranks." 

"The other members of the League?"

Jon's father laughed, "I'm the only one tenacious enough to involve myself in this kind of matter."

Jon pondered that for a moment, "Who put the poison ivy on Jason's and Batman's clothes?" 

His father smirked, "That's the funny part. That was a ploy to get them to work together."

"What?" Jon answered. 

"I was contacted by the person behind it all before Bruce contacted me for help."

"Who is it?" Jon asked, really curious about who would concoct such a weird plan.

His father smiled, "I'm not telling..."

"Come on dad!"

"Do you remember the expression: the blank did it?" 

"The butler did it?"

Superman winked at his son. 

Aliens, Jon decided as he shook his head, they were all aliens.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeknownst to Clark, his confession to his son was recorded by the microphone Bruce had stuck on him. Bruce had thought Clark was the culprit (which is why he invited him), but he was simply an associate to Bruce's butler's criminal activities. For unknown reasons, Bruce got revenge on Clark, not on Alfred.


End file.
